


twisted-up inside

by anticentristpropaganda



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: (bet you expected that one lmao), Bullying, Enemies to Lovers, High School AU, Internalized Homophobia, LGBT, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide, noooo im not projecting i promise :))) just kidding i am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticentristpropaganda/pseuds/anticentristpropaganda
Summary: authright tries to avoid people. including himself. but a school project and a bully in a ushanka changes all of that, probably for the better. wacky hijinks will ensue.THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTERED FIC! but ao3 is being a bitch. will fix it hopefully
Relationships: authleft/authright, authunity
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Tick. Tock.

"Alright, Authright, where should we start?" 

Tick. Tock.

Authright sat silent, focusing his energy on his nails. There was a hangnail on one of them, the kind that if you pull will make your nail bleed for hours.

Pull it, he thought.

No, that's stupid! Shut up!

Pull it-

No-

DO IT-

"Aughhh!" he whispered, coddling his bleeding finger.

The therapist looked at him with concern. "Do you... need a bandaid?"

Authright scoffed. "Those are for pussies," he said halfheartedly.

"I see."

Silence.

"Yaknow, I don't see why I have to do these stupid sessions anyway. Carol said-"

"Your stepmom." interrupted the therapist.

"Yeah, she said they were supposed to help, but I don't need anybody's fucking help. I was doing just fine without this, I don't see why I should be here. It's just insulting."

The therapist leaned back in his chair, absorbing the teen's words. "Well, why don't you tell me about your life then? Doesn't have to be feelings, necessarily, but just what goes on in your life." 

Authright took a moment to consider. "Fine." he scoffed. "I'm Authright. I'm 17, I'm a senior at Dunmore High School...ummm.... I live with my dad, Jake, and my stepmom Carol. Hate that bitch. I don't have many friends, and my parents are always on my ass about it.... I play video games in my spare time, RPG's like Elder Scrolls and Fallout, and uhhh... that's pretty much it."

The room went quiet for a moment.

"Thank you for sharing that, Authright. Now, why do you think you don't have many friends?"

"Because all the kids at school are libtard degenerates not worthy of my attention." he said defensively.

"I see."

The therapist continued. "Do you ever... feel loneliness or self-hatred because of your lack of friends?"

Authright gave him a puzzled look. "I'd rather be on my own than stoop to the level of my classmates."

"Well Carol said-"

"Fuck what Carol said!" burst Authright, defensively. "I- I should not have reacted like that."

"Then why the self-harm?"

Authright's jaw fell a touch, surprised at the therapist's lack of filter. He paused for a moment to look at his legs, which were covered in scratch marks. His palms, with peeled skin. "I-"

He stopped himself. He knew why he did it, the scratching, the peeling, but he vowed never to tell anyone. He could barely tell himself.

"I promise you you're safe here, Authright. No one will know. You can talk to me."

He took a moment to consider. Authright had a problem saying things out loud. When you say a thought out loud, it becomes real. He didn't want it to be real.

"I, uhh...."

He glanced at the clock. Two more minutes. He could leave.

"...have to go." 

He slung his backpack around his shoulders and darted out the door, not stopping until the therapist's office was out of sight. 

...

"And you say the strong succeed under capitalism," smirked Ancom, giving Ancap a playful smack on the shoulder.

"Shut up, you dumb fucking tard," frowned Ancap, coloring in the holes on his shoes with a black sharpie. He sat on the edge of the countertop in the bathroom, while Ancom sat in the empty bathtub.

"Did you get all your homework ready? Study for you tests?" asked Ancom.

"Uhh, I think so." he mumbled absentmindedly. Ancap would never say it out loud, but Ancom was like a mother to him. They always made sure he ate, slept, took care of himself. It was a big help.

"Alright, you stupid fucking communist, are we leaving or not?" he very fondly asked.

"Yeah," they sighed.

The two high schoolers made a mad dash for the door, running to catch the bus. Much to the annoyance of the driver, Ancap pounded on the door until the bus driver let the two of them in.

Ancap swung his backpack into an aisle in the very back, plugging in a tired pair of earbuds. 

"Music?" he asked Ancom, extending a bud to them.

"What is it?" they asked.

"Dead Kennedys," he smiled.

Ancap bounced his knees along to the rhythm, gently tapping his hands on his thighs. The two anarchists grinned as they whisper-screamed the lyrics,

"Nazi punks

Nazi punks

Nazi punks

Fuck off!"

"Wait, wait, Ancap, aren't you like, racist or something? How can you enjoy this?" asked Ancom, confused.

"I'm only racist if you pay me," he grinned.

Ancap and Ancom looked out the window as tiny urban houses disappeared behind them, making way to the run-down, vine-covered Dunmore High School.

"Is it possible to be disappointed when we get here anymore? I mean, I thought my expectations were low, but now they're on the goddamn floor." Ancap wondered.

"Yeah, something about this place just reeks of mental rot."

Ancom tugged Ancap's sleeve all the way to the front gates, much to his protests.

"Ancommie, pleesase," he whined.

"Ugh, you're such a crybaby."

"We can't skip? Just this once?"

"If you get an A on our test today, we can skip tomorrow. Deal?" Ancom teased.

"Fine."

Ancap pouted outside the door until the five-minute warning bell rang, signaling that everyone needed to walk to their first period class. He powerwalked to AP Calculus, ignoring Ancom's comments about his "faggy" walk.

...

Authleft threw off his bedsheets at the feeling of sunlight hitting his eyes.

"Fuck!" he cursed. It wasn't supposed to be this bright when he woke up. He glanced at the analog clock next to  
his bed, which read 7:10. He was gonna be late for band.

"Mom, can you grab me my goddamn tuba?" he yelled, pulling on his backpack as he ran down the hall. Before he ran out the door, he did a quick items check. He had his house keys, his ushanka (he slept in it), his backpack, his tuba, and lunch money. 

He sprinted all the way down the street, running into the roads and pissing off cars.

He collapsed into his band chair, fumbling around with the sheet music and struggling to keep up.

"Hey, dipshit, why are you so late?" whispered the kid next to him.

"Fuck off, I slept late," he mumbled through the tuba. He avoided the judgmental stares of the band director, focusing on faking the notes. He was only second chair, no one would probably notice. 

He faked playing for the rest of band until the bell rang to go to first period. He wanted to cheer himself up from his late morning, so he wandered to the bathroom where he knew he would find some fun. 

Authright was easy to tease. So quickly flustered, it was hard not to feel bad for him. And something about the stupid way he pranced around school like he was better than everyone else drew him to the blue boy.

Authleft slouched against the cold tile, feeling a tickly sensation in his stomach when the sound of heavy leather boots approached the doorway. He fumbled with his hat and ducked quickly into one of the stalls.

...

Authright could still make it to class on time if he hurried. 

He ran through the neighborhoods as fast as he could, lengthening his strides. Not that he gave a shit about school. His father would be on his ass if he were late. 

While he was running, he reflected on that excruciating therapy session. That stupid shrink would be the death of him. The thought of talking about his "feelings" made him want to jump in front of one of the cars speeding down the road beside him.

Fortunately, he made it in time with two minutes to spare. He rushed his ass into the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face.

A haunting sight creeped his shoulder, catching his attention in the mirror.

"Hey, Nazi." he grinned.

He heard the shrink's voice ringing in his ears. "You can talk to me."

His heard pounded in his chest. "What is it, Authleft? You fucking degenerate?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but tormenting you is going pretty well so far."

There went the voice again. "Nobody will know."

That 'secret' was staring him right in the face.

He pushed Authleft into a wall, pinning his wrists against the cold slab. "Leave me the fuck alone, will you?"

"Oh, I am so scared," Authleft sarcastically remarked. "Look at you. You're trembling."

"N-no I'm not," he said defensively. He wasn't used to confrontation. He had so much respect for authority, he wasn't used to challenging it.

Authleft snapped Authright off of him like brushing dust off a jacket. He loomed over him, watching the fascist's eyes widen.

"If you seriously think you can take me in a fight, go ahead. But I think you should lay off on the whole pinning-me-to-the-wall business until you grow some goddamn muscles," he smiled.

Authright twitched under his gaze, flinching at every move. He had never felt so vulnerable. Powerless. "God I fucking hate you." he spat.

They both paused for a moment, nervously anticipating each other's movements. Watching the twitch of an arm or relaxation of the eyebrows could mean an escape.

Authright's release from Authleft's clutches came when the bell rang, signaling they would both be late to class. Fuck, he thought. I'm gonna be in huge trouble.

Authright slumped into the wall, disoriented. He stared at the doorframe, pondering his fate when he arrived home.

"Hey, fucktard, are we going or not?"

"We?" Authright spat.

"Yeah, we have first period AP Calc together."

"Fuck. Me." he whispered to himself. "Alright, fine. Let's go."

The two teens hustled out the door, hoping their teacher would have mercy once they arrived.

Their footsteps echoed in the hallway, ringing in their ears.

Their teacher was waiting for them outside the door.

"You're late," she frowned.

"We know," Authleft apologized, "And we're sorry."

The teacher took a moment to consider. "Haul it inside."

...

Ancap took a moment to notice the two boys who walked in late, glaring at each other from across the classroom.

"Ancom, ya noticed Tweedledumb and Tweedledick stumbled in at the exact same time?" Ancap whispered.

"Bet you five bucks they were fucking in the bathroom," they giggled. Ancap let out a burst of laughter.

The teacher glared at the two giggling students. "I will now be assigning partners for the group project," she announced

Ancap froze in his seat. "Shit," he mumbled. He didn't want to have to talk to anyone besides Ancom.

"First group," the teacher snapped. Followed by some names Ancap didn't recognize.

Meanwhile, Authright squirmed in his seat. He wouldn't exactly call himself social, either. Talking to other people always felt forced. 

He stared at Authleft, who was long since asleep. His face was scrunched against his arm, hat falling off his head.

Stupid hat, he thought. Stupid boy.

Stupid fucking communist. God, he hated him.

His mental train wreck was interrupted when he heard his name being called. "Authright, Authleft, and Ancap for group C," glared the teacher. 

Authleft woke from his nap at the sound of his name. He looked at the other boys who would be in his group. The boy dressed in yellow, sadly staring at an empty desk beside him. Authright, who was staring daggers at Authleft himself. Authleft playfully grinned in return. This? This was going to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

(sorry, not a new chapter, just putting this down so ao3 will stop glitching)


End file.
